


The rainy season

by devilscut



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilscut/pseuds/devilscut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you've lost all of your family it's inevitable that there are many days out of the year that remind Derek all too painfully of exactly what he's lost.. birthdays, anniversaries, holidays.  Today is just another pain-filled reminder, Laura's birthday and walking to escape the memories somehow leads him to standing below the bedroom window of a 17 year old teenage boy.. he's not known Stiles for that long, but the light from his window is a beacon and he just wants to stop hurting, even if it's only for one night.  That it's raining and the deluge has left him cold and shaking just seems to be one more example of how crap is his life and how little he is cared for.. or so he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The rainy season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shannara810](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shannara810/gifts).



> Gifted for the wonderful Shannara810 who mentioned this idea a while ago now and has probably thought I'd forgotten all about it.. surprise!!
> 
> I can't even begin to imagine the number of weeks or months where Derek must remember that today is someone's birthday, his parent's anniversary.. the holidays.. thanksgiving and Christmas on his own and it breaks my heart.
> 
> Unbeta'ed.

[Rain - Creed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEG8qJH3hB4)

 

Derek lifts his head and lets the rain pelt against his face, likes the sting of the hard drops on his skin as he looks at the house where **_he_** lives.

 

The light that pours from the window of the upstairs room calls to him like a beacon...like a lighthouse guiding him to safety.

 

To home.

 

When had that happened?  That he equated safety and home with a 17 year old incredibly sarcastic, incredibly annoying, incredibly loyal teenage boy.

 

He shivers under the heavy constant deluge.  Even with his werewolf biology he’s not completely immune to being soaked through for hours and it has been hours he realises, vaguely startled as he sees how dark it’s become since earlier that day, the afternoon grey and gloomy when he first started walking in a light shower of rain.

 

There had been no destination in mind then, just as long as it was away from his memories.  It didn’t work.  There was no escape.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees her.  Again.  When he turns to look, she’s gone.  She never stays. 

 

He’s felt so alone for such a long time now, without her to guide him, guard him...love him.  If she’d known the truth, he’s not sure she would’ve.  In the nights leading up to her birthday when he dreams, he dreams of her and she’s got a look on her face...shadows in her eyes.  It took him a long time to work out what that expression meant.  It’s disappointment and it hurts.. and hurts.. and hurts until the pain is so much a part of him every day that he wonders could he exist without it.

 

The thing that kills him the most is that he’d never given her the chance to know why it had happened. The fire and the murder of their family had remained a mystery to her right up to her own death.

 

The guilt claws at Derek.  Claws at his gut, his heart and his mind. 

 

He’d never given her the chance to hate him, to disavow him...to forgive him.

 

He aches.  Heart sore and bone weary.

 

Today, on her day, he’d not been able to let go of what Kate had said to him in that hellhole where she tortured him over and over all with a smile on her face and a razor sharp endearment slipping off her tongue so easily that it was a perfect match to the silver blade she cut him with.

 

Laughing in delight as he jerked and flinched, convulsing with every jolt of electricity that she sent coursing through his body.

 

Her hands had been surprisingly gentle in between, patting him almost in approval that he’d taken what she dished out.

 

That was nothing.  Physical torture he could endure, but not the mental games she played.  She’d honed in on his weakness, like a terrier seeking a big juicy bone to gnaw on until the bone shatters and there’s nothing left but splinters.

 

His darkest, deepest secret that lay raw and exposed in his soul.  She’d found it and pressed on the gaping open wound until he could only hang his head in shame and grief.

 

His sister...his Laura, who’d loved him and held him for countless nights after the fire when nightmares threatened to tear his mind apart, he misses her so much, so very much.

 

The grief spills out and he lifts his head and calls for help not with words, but the mournful ululations of his wolf, uncaring of the tears that spill out of his eyes, the rain washes them away as though they’d never been there.

 

Then he realises, **_he’s_** there standing in front of him struggling to open a large umbrella.  When he finally has it open Stiles draws him under it, sheltering him.

 

“Derek?...Derek...are you alright?  What are you doing out here?  Has something happened...oh God, is someone hurt?  Is someone-"  Hearing the panic in the younger man’s voice Derek shakes his head, no.  Stiles hand wraps around his and Derek can only stare at where the boy’s warmth presses into his flesh.

 

He can’t control the way his hand clutches convulsively at the other boy’s.  Desperate for contact...desperate not to let go.

 

“Oh my God...you’re freezing.  Come on let’s get you inside.”  Stiles says as he shivers in reaction to Derek’s cold touch.  Stiles feels like he’s burning to Derek, but he’s pretty sure it’s him, because he’s so cold and the boy is toasty warm rather than fever hot.

 

He looks into eyes that he knows are amber in colour, but in the gloom and the rain they just look huge and dark, fringed with such long lashes that beads of water cling to their ends, glistening like diamonds.

 

Then he’s being drawn into the warmth inside, waits as Stiles shakes the drops off the umbrella and props it outside near the front door.  He follows the boy silently up the stairs, not letting go of Stiles’ hand.  Shivering uncontrollably in his wet clothes he can only look numbly at the dry towel that Stiles hands him as he stands in the middle of the bathroom.

 

“Derek, come on you’ve gotta get out of those clothes and dry off.  You can borrow some of mine.”  He turns to leave and Derek can’t bear the thought of being left alone.  He’s been alone for far too long now and even as Stiles loosens his grip on his hand, Derek tightens his and Stiles jerks to a stop, his free arm pin wheeling wildly to retain his balance.

 

“Derek?”  Stiles’ whiskey coloured eyes fix on his and there’s worry and concern in them and it’s for him.  He can feel a tight band settle around his chest and it’s hard to breathe at the realisation that there is at least one living soul in the world that cares what happens to him.  “Derek...dude you’re starting to scare me a little bit here.”

 

Stiles’ voice is high pitched and Derek can hear his rapid fluttering heartbeat.  It thunders in his ears.

 

“Stay.”  He wonders if Stiles can understand the hoarse rasp.  He seems to when he simply nods his head and turns it away to give him some privacy.  Derek waits a moment and when it seems that Stiles is definitely going to stay...isn’t going to suddenly abandon him he reluctantly releases his grip on his hand.

 

With icy, shaking hands he fumbles with his clothes not even aware that he’s making these little frustrated noises because his fingers are too numb and he can’t make them move and do what he wants them to do, only realises when Stiles is standing right in front of him.   Big dark amber eyes look into his searchingly.

 

He’s so cold...so cold.  The warmth from Stiles’ body draws Derek like a magnet and he sways towards him before regaining control and jerking back awkwardly.

 

“Derek, do you want me to help you?”  Stiles asks softly and for a kid who’s usually loud and practically vibrating with energy Derek can feel something tight inside him ease under the steady calm gaze.  Looking into those accepting eyes gives him the courage to nod his head, before he looks down unseeingly at the floor.

 

“Okay then.”  Stiles says and Derek feels a little start of surprise ripple through him at the easy acceptance, because it really is okay. 

 

Stiles helps him slide his arms out of the black leather jacket that is so sodden and heavy that he grunts as he pitches it over the edge of the bathtub.

 

The soaked shirt pulls straight off even as it tries to cling to his stomach and shoulders.  Stiles throws it into the bath tub where it makes a wet squelching noise as it hits the enamel.  He grabs the towel out of Derek’s hand and lifts it towards his hair silently asking if it’s okay.  Derek lowers his head so that Stiles doesn’t have to stretch in answer.

 

Briskly rubbing over the wet strands until they’re no longer plastered to his skull, Stiles quickly moves and dries off his shoulders, arms and chest.  The funny thing is that now he’s not actually wet on his upper body he feels colder than before and starts to visibly shiver.

 

“Derek you’ve gotta let me go and get you some warm clothes...okay?”  Stiles turns as though to leave and Derek he can’t...can’t bear to be left behind again.

 

“Please.”  He says roughly and Stiles looks at him questioningly.  “Don’t leave me.”

 

He can see Stiles’ red mouth form a surprised ‘O’ before he shakes his head as though to clear it.  He looks at Derek for an intense moment before nodding his head as though he’s come to some decision and to Derek’s amazement he’s pulling his own t-shirt off and pushing it over his head.  Then he’s helping him slide his arms through the sleeves.  It’s a tight fit but it feels warm and it’s drenched in Stiles’ scent and it’s so soothing that his wolf gives a contented yip inside.

 

“If you can get your shoes off.”  Stiles points down at his feet.  He’s bare chested and Derek worries that **_he’s_** going to catch a chill himself when he sees the goosebumps that ripple over his pale skin, so he quickly toes his shoes off.

 

“Lets get those jeans off too.”  Stiles stands in front of him and without hesitation places his hands at Derek’s groin to unbutton and unzip his jeans.  Before wrestling the clingy denim down over his thighs and lets Derek rest his hands on his shoulders so he can step out of them.  He wonders if he’s completely traumatized him when he sees a deep red flush rise and stain his cheekbones and there’s a noise coming from his chest, a wheezing, high pitched one that times with every breath out.

 

Stiles feels so solid and firm under his hands, it’s the first time in a long time Derek feels...grounded.

 

“So Derek...I’ll let you...”  He waves a large, strong hand towards Derek’s cotton-clad junk as he hands him the towel.  “Yeah uhm.. the rest.”  Stiles turns his back and strips his own track pants down his legs and thrusts them back and behind him.  It takes Derek a moment to grasp what’s going on as he looks at the long curving spine and Stiles’ ass covered by Spiderman boxers as his arm extended awkwardly behind him wavers in front of him.  He reaches out and grabs the grey pants.  Something hot and achy burns inside his chest.  Stiles is giving him the very clothes off his back.

 

Tugging his black cotton boxers down his thighs Derek drops them into the tub as well before pulling the pants on.  They retain the warmth from Stiles’ body and it feels good.  Feels right.

 

Vanilla and citrus flood his senses and it’s like he’s wrapped in Stiles’ scent, he can’t resist the compulsion and he grabs the front of the shirt and lifts it to hold it against his nose drinking it in, rubs the soft worn fabric against his cheeks and jaw.

 

When the urge has passed he reaches out towards Stiles to touch his shoulder before thinking better of it and dropping his hand to his side.  Emotion is riding him hard and trying to control it makes his voice unintentionally harsh.  “Thank you.”

 

Stiles turns and looks him over and tilts his head indicating that Derek should follow him.  He stands in the middle of the boy’s room and wraps his arms around his body.  His core is still too cool and he can feel the tremors that shake him inside ripple through him as he watches Stiles open up a couple of drawers and grab another t-shirt and track pants.

 

Once he’s dressed again, frowning he walks over to where Derek’s visibly shuddering on his feet.  He gasps aloud at the burning sensation of Stiles’ hand on his arm.

 

“Too cold...too cold.”  Stiles mutters and his hand slides down Derek’s forearm to his and their fingers tangle and Stiles tugs on them and draws him to his bed.  With the other hand he flicks the bedcovers up and pushes Derek down to a seated position on the edge of the bed while he hovers in front of him, shifting from one foot to the other. 

 

Derek hunches over, not looking at the boy.  He’s not comfortable.  It feels like he’s invading Stiles’ personal space, knows that in the morning it’s going to be awkward and he’d be lucky if he didn’t hate him even more than he does already.  But, he knows Stiles would do anything for his friends...maybe even give them the shirt off his back.  Derek wonders does this mean that he and Stiles are...friends?

 

“Come on, get in...we gotta get you warm.”   Stiles says it so gently as he puts his hand on Derek’s shoulder and  presses lightly encouraging him to lie down, Derek can’t stop the hitching almost sobbing breath that escapes him, it’s the first time he’s been touched with kindness or caring in such a long time.  He’ll let the younger man do with him as he will as long as he keeps touching him like that.

 

He presses his face into Stiles’ pillow and soaks up the scents, breathing in deeply and holding it in his lungs.  The sheets are recently changed he can tell, yet Stiles’ scent has impregnated itself into the woven cotton fabric, there's vanilla, citrus and clean sweat when he’s gotten too warm at night and overheated.  There’s the salty tang of semen as well which makes his nose twitch violently in reaction and his groin flutter, but it’s to be expected after all Stiles is a healthy teenager in his sexual prime.

 

When the light goes off and the room is plunged into darkness Derek freezes and his throat goes tight.

 

“Stiles.”  His voice sounds strangled even to himself.  The bedside lamp on the opposite side of where he’s lying flicks on.  He huffs in relief.

 

“Sorry. I should’ve put that on first.”  Stiles sounds chagrined as he lifts the covers up and slides in behind Derek.  “Now...uhm don’t get freaked out but the best way to get you warmed up is...ahh...for me...for us...”

 

“Stiles...it’s okay...you don’t have to.”  Derek interrupts, the boy is doing more for him than he’d ever dreamed of, like they were pack and he’s grateful, so very, very grateful.  He feels the mattress dip as Stiles shifts closer and then he’s reaching across and drawing the covers over Derek’s shoulders even as he slips in behind him.

 

“Yeah I do.”  Stiles whispers and Derek can feel the boy slide one arm under the pillow they’re sharing, crooking it so he’s sorta hugging it to his head.  He can sense Stiles’ hand hover over his body for one moment before sliding hesitantly over his waist and curving up so his fingers rest on his sternum, near his heart and he wonders if Stiles can feel the heavy throb of his heartbeat against his fingertips.

 

The aching sigh that leaves him then seems to be all the permission Stiles needs to press his body against him.  The warmth that floods through him doesn’t seem to be entirely physical and with his hand he grabs hold of Stiles’ that rests on his chest and entwines his fingers with the boy’s.  Holding him, keeping him there.

 

Stiles’ body feels surprisingly hard and strong against his back.  He’s radiating heat and Derek can’t help but push back into it even when he hears a little squeak from the other boy and can hear his heartbeat start to race faster than a jackrabbit.  The scent of vanilla and orange is suddenly so strong and overwhelming, he’s almost drunk on it.  Intoxicated.  He feels safe and cared for and it’s strange and wonderful all at the same time because it’s this boy that makes him feel it and it’s been forever since he’s known that sensation.

 

Eventually the shivering stops and Derek lays there letting the warmth seep into his very bones.  The regular puffs of hot air against his nape are soothing as he waits for the other boy to start with the questions.  Stiles after all is a curious teenage boy and that curiosity was what had led him and Scott to be in the woods that fateful night, but...nothing.   Stiles doesn’t say a word simply holds him tight, his chest to Derek’s back, his knees slotting in behind Derek’s, his toes brushing against the back of Derek’s calves down to his feet and ankles.

 

The silence between them presses down on him and he shifts restlessly.  Stiles loosens his hold before whispering “Okay?”

 

He grabs Stiles’ arm draped over him with both hands and tugs on it practically drawing the younger man over him like a living blanket.  The stuttering breaths that Stiles is making don’t escape him nor does the acceleration of his heartbeat, but the boy doesn’t pull away.  It’s as though it’s all the encouragement he needed and he throws one leg across both of Derek’s as he lays half-draped over him his nose pressing into the side of Derek’s neck.

 

It’s so reminiscent of how Laura used to hold him, pin him down so he didn’t thrash wildly when he had the nightmares, that before he knows it he’s whining.  Whining out her name over and over.  The grief washing over him anew leaving him strangely dry-eyed and heaving.

 

“Okay Derek. I got ya...not gonna let you go, okay...it’s you and me.”  Stiles whispers the words against the sensitive skin of his neck.  He doesn’t stop, keeps on talking and whispering until Derek relaxes and loses the tenseness that had gripped his body.  It’s like all the pain has emptied out of him.  He doesn’t think it’s permanent but he’ll take what he can get even if it’s one night free from the guilt and pain that’s haunted him for so long.

 

Exhausted he starts to doze.  Warm and safe still wrapped up in Stiles’ arms.

 

“Thank you.”  Derek murmurs drowsily to the other man who is practically sprawled over the top of him. 

 

Stiles snuffles, sounds on the edge of sleep as he hears him say.. “S’okay baby...we're pack...sleep now.” 

 

‘Pack?’  That was...that was so strangely right and 'Baby?' weird, but kinda good too Derek decides before he slides completely and deeply into sleep.

 

When he dreams, he dreams of her and she’s smiling.


End file.
